One Step Forward Two Steps Back
by EleanorKate
Summary: Set on their return from honeymoon, the story of one evenings events in the new Noakes household. Rated M but far too high for first chapter but leaving it there for the future. No real story or plot, just interruptions!
1. Chapter 1

Peter stood there with nervous grin plastered to his face and feet temporarily attached to the floorboards outside the door. A bouquet of flowers lay against the black of his uniform tunic providing a stark contrast between formality and the cheery sunshine yellow of the petals. Quietly turning the key in the lock, and firmly shutting it behind him, he could hear the radio and her pottering about in the flat. "Camilla?"

Chummy smiled at hearing his voice filter through the attics to her place in the kitchen to his left and she turned to find he had made it from the door in rather double quick time. The fact he was standing there - looking apprehensive for some reason - didn't make those wonderfully anxious butterflies that danced her stomach go on their merry way one bit. She had been inexplicably in that state since she realised how quickly her day had gone and how he would be home soon. Chummy had also given herself a good old-fashioned talking to in the bathroom mirror as well for being so giddy at the prospect.

' _What are you looking at yourself like that for old girl? You can wipe that schoolgirl grin off your face this very second! You know he's just, well, he is just absolutely lovely, and he is your husband, but that look in your eyes just isn't done and you blazing well know it!"_

As she turned Victor Sylvester down to a dull roar she had to tick herself off too. For ticking herself off. _Again._

The radio had been little loud she would admit but with only her own company to keep herself amused, it broke the silence that pervaded around her and as she turned it down but not off, the room filled with hush again.

Still so conscious of herself, she stepped forward to kiss him 'hello'. They had been home from honeymoon only a night and a day but she had missed him today she had to confess; if only to herself or the mirror. He was back at work but through accident or design, Sister Julienne had not put her on shift until tomorrow so she had a day at home, albeit sadly on her own. She had spent it cleaning and polishing and the attic rooms now shone like a new pin. The kiss was warm, yet still hesitant of her it seemed, and the smell of the chrysanthemums he had bought from the flower seller outside the station faintly drifted to her nose as the bouquet was inadvertently crushed between them.

Peter smiled at her, straightening one of the flower heads, and held them out to her. "I just thought these might brighten the place up". He never normally decorated the attics much. The rooms were functional; did their job as a place to sleep and eat and Peter had never really thought of the fact that those chrysanthemums he'd often seen on the stall might look nice on the table underneath the window until today so he took it upon himself to bring them home. He had wondered, for a moment, on the walk back what had suddenly changed for the thought to even cross his mind.

Oh yes, he had recalled, it was _her_. The fact she was waiting for him had changed.

Chummy took the flowers wrapped up in striped purple paper and, as he followed her back, placed them by the sink. "Do you have a vase?" she asked, having not quite as yet navigated the nooks and crannies of the small kitchen, casting a glance around her should there be something hiding from her in a dark corner.

" _We_ do" Peter replied, deliberately changing her words. "In that cupboard" he continued gesturing behind her to just next to the cooker, seeing her bend down to look.

 _'Stop in now Noakes! She's looking for a vase and really, you need to just…Yes you know you've missed her and yes even though you chose to ignore it, you did see the look on Frank's face when you couldn't just shut up about her, but stop it this second! Bending. Down. For. A. Vase. "'_

Peter shook his head quickly and thought about vases instead. How he had ended up with one of Mum's best glass ones he would never know. It had perhaps been from when he first moved in and a result of his mother's best attempts to make the attics look more homely and 'nice for a young lady' as she had put it as his father took a deep breath in the background. The vase had disappeared into the cupboard long ago as had that mysterious apparition of a 'nice young lady' and Peter had almost forgotten it was there.

"Go and get changed out of that uniform", she said straightening up with the prize in her hand. "I'll do these and put the kettle on".

Peter walked to his, no, _their_ bedroom to change and she could hear him moving around; drawers opening and shutting and floorboards creaking underneath his feet. "I thought I might run down to the chippy" he said, loudly so she could hear, not realising she had walked in behind him, the pile of ironing in her hands that she wanted out of the way before she started on the flowers and the inevitable mess she would be making.

Chummy stopped in the doorway just listening and watching as he had his back to her, but still talking away. Why did she just feel no reason other than fascination to just watch him move around? "I walked past there before and it was nice and quiet so I thought I could run down now and there wouldn't be a queue and you could…"

She'd noticed that he could go off on many a wild tangent just like she could. He turned quickly and saw her in the doorway. "I was looking for that!" he said, seeing his grey shirt draped over her arm and stepping forward towards her to take it.

Chummy handed him the shirt and sat down on the oyster coloured candlewick that covered the bed, her first intention to unravel the socks and stockings that had decided to become intertwined as they sat in the basket amongst the vests and underwear. It was the remains of their honeymoon washing that she had set about this morning and now happily dry, it needed to go away. She spilled the basket onto the bed and set about pairing up the socks.

"Supper from there would be nice" she eventually replied with a smile, picking up their conversation as she rolled a pair of his socks as he wandered around. "It has only been what? Three days after all since we last had fish and chips for our supper? It will make a change!"

 _'Did that sound sarcastic? Perhaps you should hope he wasn't listening properly...Sarcasm is the lowest form of humour as Mater used to say...'_

To her relief, Peter laughed. Sometimes, well most of the time, her attempts at humour fell flat on their faces but at least he laughed. Genuinely. She breathed a sigh of silent relief as he straightened up from unlacing his boots. It always felt mortally embarrassing when her jokes fell flat, but somehow it was worse around him for some reason. He was the first person she wanted to impress, try to be elegant and pretty for and make sure all the words that were jumbled around in her head came out of her mouth in the right order. She wasn't convinced she was quite managing it just yet though.

"If you want I can run to Mrs Lacey's?" he offered, leaning forward offering up a kiss to her cheek. "It's only a bit further the other way".

She shook her head which he took as she still wanted him to go to Devons Road instead so Peter stepped away and pulled his tie from his starched shirt collar and hung it on the wardrobe handle as she went back to her socks.

It never really struck her until today that she could probably count on one hand the numbers of socks she had paired or how many sink-fuls of washing she had scrubbed. It was strange that she got to thirty two years of age and never had to these things of a domestic nature. Still, she wasn't actually complaining about it. It was really quite abnormal _not_ to know if you would ask her now as she had, many a time, contemplated how things had changed.

Peter sat next to her, pulling off his black work socks replacing them with two others picked out from the pile; faded blue they were, probably needing a stitch or two around the heels but that would do another day. "Did you have a good shift?" she asked.

"On and off" Peter replied sitting up to undo the collar of his formal shirt. Today he would perhaps class as average seven-and-a-half-out-of-ten and no more than that. "I saw Sister Julienne down by Lindfield Street and she said that I must say 'hello'. She was checking you were coming back into work tomorrow too!"

Chummy smiled as she paired another two socks from the pile. She had missed them all and although she had quite enjoyed getting to grips with the attics today, she couldn't repeat that week in week out otherwise she may simply faint from boredom. There was something pleasing about having a tidy flat for him to come home to but he was so inordinately neat already that there wasn't actually much to do even though she would make sure all was in order as that was what she was meant to do, wasn't it? Now that she was his wife? Have a tidy house, dinner on the table (even though it wasn't tonight), be smiling at him when he came home after a hard day her worries not to be a topic of conversation. That's what was meant to happen now she was a married woman or so that abandoned magazine told her that she read yesterday as they trundled back on the train.

"I did tell her I'd be sending you on your way tomorrow morning at six sharp!" he continued with a laugh, undoing his buttons on his work shirt as he went and her eyes wandered to his hands, blinking quickly to dismiss the thought as soon as it entered her head, not quite realising he had seen her hesitate.

For a moment, Chummy panicked and she actually felt a tremor in her hands as she picked up one of his vests from the pile, folding it neatly over on her knee to go into the drawer, hoping he couldn't see the shakes. They'd had a wonderful ten days in Ramsgate and she had become almost, _almost_ , used the affection and the fact that she needed to give him very little encouragement in that department to her surprise. Now though, now they were back home she had wondered, now it was humdrum again and the mundaneness of work and shifts would start up soon enough, if he might just, well, _stop_. He had noticed though that she seemed distracted with a flash of something in her eyes that Peter was not quite sure that he could read quite yet.

"I'm sorry" she said quickly, picking up another pair of socks to fold, distracted and quite not realising one was black and the other was blue.

"What are you sorry for?" he asked, seeing his wife shake her head far too fast to dismiss his question, until it dawned on him. She saw his hands leave his shirt, almost open to the waist and one just ever so gently touch her cheek, tucking her hair behind her ear. "One thing Grandad always said to me was when I got married was to make sure my wife could tell me what she was thinking; to not be afraid of telling me how she feels; good or bad. That way, I'd have a good marriage and she wouldn't think she was just there to clean up after me…or roll up socks…." he concluded, taking the mismatched pair from her hands.

"You don't want to hear what rattles around in my silly old head. I shouldn't bother you with it". She was looking him in the eye now; feeling frightened of his response and just rather a little stirred as they stared at each other and Victor Sylvester, still piping away in the kitchen, faded into a distant rumble.

She remembered the first time she felt this before; that first night of their honeymoon when he had locked the bedroom door and wandered over to her where she was floating nervously in the moonlight between the dressing table and bed. Oddly not when she allowed him to take her to bed, back weeks ago, in fact in this very bed, but the first night it was as husband and wife that had truly rattled her spirit. She smiled slightly, just touching her lips together and turned her eyes away.

Suddenly, Peter realised something he hadn't considered until that moment. He had been expecting almighty disaster, with the world conspiring to work against his every move as per usual. But no, all seemed to be rather well and easy and until fate had launched her at him, quite literally as it was, he had always been taking one glance behind him.

 _'You can stop looking now, you really can. This is it for life now. For life'_

These last few weeks he had taken heed of the inner workings of his mind and taken note too.

It had been glorious expectation he had felt in those days leading up to the wedding and now finding himself married, particularly to her; the woman he had held a candle for from the moment he set eyes on her, well it was really rather quite marvellous and for the time being he was willing to put aside thoughts of impending doom.

Without another word, Peter leant across, sliding his palm to the back of her neck pulling her forward to kiss her, feeling her arms go around his shoulders in response. She was holding onto him so tightly, even though the remains of the washing basket were creasing between them but these emotions that they had someone managed to create were something that could not be caged up and put away.

She _had to know_ it was alright to have feelings, whatever they may be and if she wanted to look at him like that, then well, she could and he certainly wouldn't be thinking less of her for it. One of these days Peter knew he had to succeed in making sure she knew these feelings of desire, anger, fear, joy and sadness that he knew she had within her were all entirely normal.

"There's nothing you need to feel ashamed about" he whispered; hoping if he repeated it enough that it may sink in one day.

Why should it be different that he was allowed to scrape his eyes over her but she wasn't able to reciprocate if she so felt?

"One should" she began, breaking the kiss with a gentle push on his shoulder, trying to ignore the sudden palpitations erratically drumming in her chest and how easy it would be to just let him push her down on the mattress; washing and fish and chips forgotten. "Do this…." she said, pointing down at the pile of socks and underwear as he felt her arms unwrap from around his neck.

The look on his face was something she could really not describe. "No" he said simply. "I've missed you today and you may find I'm more interesting than my vests" Peter continued, catching her lips in a brief kiss, hovering so close to her that she could feel his warm breath on her face. A laugh bubbled up briefly. Yes, she would admit, he was far more thought-provoking than a vest.

"I missed you too" she whispered as she half closed her eyes, feeling silly as one hand fell on his knee. It didn't sound right - that phrase - to fall from her mouth of all peoples. No-one had ever told them that they had missed her company before and the grin she felt was one that could dissolve her resolve in seconds and it seemed he knew it.

"All that I suggest therefore" Peter said, drifting down so he was breathing on her neck, a fingertip drawing a line up and down the 'v' neck of her dress, "is put all of that back into the basket for now. It can wait. I can't".

Chummy smiled to herself in wonderment, forgetting for a moment that it wasn't meant to be like this. 'He can't wait for me?' she thought as she found herself fiddling with the rest of the buttons of his plain work shirt, opening it up to rest both hands on his chest, still buried under his vest.

 _'Yes, definitely, indubitably, more interesting in many a way than thermals. Certainly, what?'_

Out of the corner of her half closed eyes, she saw his hand push away the pile of washing, most of it hitting the basket that was still between their feet. A stocking that lingered was launched somewhere or other as a shiver shot up and down her spine as she began to relax, breathing deeply and just letting the wonderful feel of his lips on her neck overtake rational thought.

She could feel the buttons on her cardigan being popped one by one, the movement catching the material underneath and the time of day was forgotten as she pulled him forward slightly taking a handful of his shirt wanting to feel him closer; to feel his chest rise and fall as it made her so alive too. "I do love you" Peter muttered but really so quietly that if he wasn't loitering by her ear she never would have heard it.

She rested her palm on his throat, feeling the warmth of his skin. "I love you too" Chummy whispered. She was sure in a few weeks she wouldn't think twice about it, but as her lips caught his again, she still didn't feel worthy. It was almost as though some ethereal being would burst through the door and tell her off for even thinking such a ludicrous thought that this man would want her so.

 _'It is such a despairing situation...no man in his right mind will even take a backward glance at you. Tell me, what is one meant to do with you Camilla?'_

Sitting on the edge of the bed, she shifted back turning to face him slightly better, loosening the last couple of buttons of his shirt, sliding it off his shoulders until he pulled away. "Wait…" Peter said quickly, sitting away from her to undo the cuffs before he shed the blue shirt and reached back across to her pushing her cardigan off her shoulders and she flung that away too.

Kissing him was heaven untamed and if it was to be said, she could easily stay here for some while if she had not known the steps beyond and had not felt just how particular it was to have his weight on her and listen to just what her body seemed to be able to do to him.

She felt his palm drift up her leg, underneath her skirt, passing over her stocking tops to rest on her hip and she followed suite as his palm rested on her bare skin; fingertips gently passing back and forth. Her hands drifted from his chest over his belt buckle, the undone fly of his trousers, massaging his thigh before she ran her palms over his back feeling the solidity of the fact that he was there and not going anywhere any time soon.

They were easily lost in the moment as minutes passed, just indulging and hands coursing over clothes and skin. Now they had each other, for better or for worse, the strength was inordinate and she let out a sigh as she felt the hand under her skirts move.

It was the gentlest touch back and forth across the cotton, repeated, repeated and repeated, but it nearly sent her away, shifting her leg to one side so he could just about slide his fingertips underneath. He loved that little noise she made as he incited just those first edges of arousal and as she caught her breath until there was an almighty, peace-shattering, knock on the door.

"Oh for ba…." Chummy began, tipping her head to one side and scowling at the bedroom door as she felt his forehead touch her shoulder; his hand still and withdrawing from contact.

"That'll be the landlady. She probably saw me come back in", Peter sighed, pulling back from her, palm flat on her leg before he neatened her skirts back to a respectable level. "That's her rent knock. You'll have to go" he concluded, nodding downwards where she had managed to undo his belt and easily forgive his reaction to her attention. Chummy knew she shouldn't laugh as she stood up and took a very quick look at herself in the mirror. "Yes," she replied, gesturing vaguely in the vicinity of his trousers. "One would think it would be rather quite scandalous if you answered the door like that".

One further check later, she turned away from him. Friday night was rent night she had learned, and he kept it in a small tin that long ago used to house ginger biscuits just on the shelf in the kitchen.

Twisting her waistband she dare not look back at him as he had lay back on the bed, arms outstretched and obviously in a state of fundamental disrepair.

She walked quickly, knowing she was would have to fetch the tin down, to attend to his landlady and that ominous knock.


	2. Chapter 2

Chummy wandered off to answer the door, dealing swiftly with the landlady who was not very chatty at all it seemed, looking her up and down. Chummy did wonder for a second whether she had noticed a disrupted button, the pink flush on her cheeks or the fact that she wasn't wearing any shoes, but no, it was the money in her hand that held her unremitting gaze.

It wasn't the first time they had met by any means but this was the first time in her new status as 'Mrs Noakes'. She handed over the money with a sincere smile and saw the landlady quickly checking it was right before she offered a brief nod in return. She reminded Chummy for a moment of Fagin, rolling the notes and coins in her hand; the image of this woman almost salivating at the prospect of currency suddenly popping unbidden into her mind. Chummy pressed her lips together to stop herself saying or doing anything inappropriate as the landlady nodded curtly again and turned tail.

'Well that was very short and not so sweet' Chummy thought to herself she watched her clip down the narrow staircase with barely a word and certainly no 'thank you' to offer. She shrugged her shoulders to herself and as she pushed the door shut, Chummy felt his presence behind her. She smiled slightly as she withdrew the key from the lock, only out of the corner of her eye seeing him there a foot behind her; checking if the coast was clear it seemed.

Peter had crept over hearing the swift transaction and the door close, for some reason having thrown his work shirt back over his shoulders. The landlady had always been as pleasant as he could expect to him particularly as it could be quite handy to have a police officer in your house from time to time, but then again he never really caused her any bother. Still, Peter thought, two more weeks of having to hand over well earned money that would only go on drink, and that chapter of his life would be firmly over with and it couldn't come quick enough.

Peter's arms slid under hers, up and over her clothed breasts, taking handfuls and liberties at the same time even before her hand had really left the door as he breathed in her perfume. It was that little bottle of something or other she had bought when they were on Honeymoon from that strange shop that seemed to be just full of anything and everything that she had found just off the main high street. Now that he was actually paying attention, having loitered outside the shop whilst she pottered, it was really rather quite attractive.

She leant back against him, closing her eyes and breathing deeply, hands falling backwards to find his trouser loops pulling him tight against her back, pressing her hips as the rather lovely sensations of his hands all over her caused her pulse to pick up and her muscles to relax. How odd it was that his mere presence could cause such calm one moment and the next? Well…..

Chummy noted absently again that he had put his shirt back on and did wonder for a second why. The flat wasn't cold by any means and it wasn't as though he would be parading around in front of his landlady like that as she was well on her way. There must be a reason but she decided to let it go. Chummy had half a mind what it was; his consciousness over the scarring that littered his back and shoulder but she knew in time, she could ask and not feel frightened of what his response may be. His arms, now around her ribs, rested. "I somehow think that she will on her way to the off license by now" he offered with a pained sigh.

"Really?" Chummy asked, turning slightly sideways to see him as she slid her palms over the arms that were holding her so tightly.

Peter nodded. "Every Friday with our rent money like clockwork. Up here I'm the last one so in a minute or two you'll hear that front door bang downstairs when she's off round the corner".

Almost on cue, it was almost as though the entire house rattled as the door was slammed shut; both feeling the reverberations ripple up the walls to the roof. "There you are" Peter replied, sighing again. "The sooner we are out of here the better".

"I thought you liked living here" she offered, twisting a little bit more to look him in the eye as they still stood marooned between the door and the back of the settee.

"I do", Peter responded, still convinced that notwithstanding his landlady and some of the neighbours that he did like this place underneath it all. "It's nice and tucked out the way up here; but him downstairs is a strange one and she screams and shouts all the time at her husband when she's had too many". He moved slightly, tightening his arms around her middle and she could feel the just divine warmth pervading off him. "I don't want you to be stuck up here when I'm at work with them like that".

A smile danced across her lips involuntarily.

"I've seen the flats that are the married quarters. They're not too bad; bit small but bigger than here" he carried on. "It'll do us for a while 'til we start expanding" Peter continued casually not particularly realising the implications of what he had said. She knew he meant children, even if it was an off the cuff remark, but it was a subject that needed rapidly changing at least for now.

"When are you getting the keys?" she asked as they still lingered by the door in each other's arms. She was excited about moving, even though it was only a few streets away; it was her – no _their_ – new beginnings. However humble they might be, those police lodgings were the start of something remarkable as far as she was concerned and for this one occasion, things were so very, very positive.

"Two weeks next Wednesday" he replied, propping his chin in her shoulder. "We can have a walk down on Sunday and at least see it from the outside. It's up on the fourth floor on the corner. Number fourteen".

"That'll be perfect" she replied with a smile as he pressed his lips gently to her shoulder blade before she turned around to face him properly, still entrenched in his arms. _Why are you looking at me like that?_ She dismissed the thought as soon as it came, not wanting to ruin this as per usual and smiled as sweetly as she could as his palms rested on her hips; her arms clinging around his shoulders again taking in the slight bristle on his jaw as her hands made their journey. "One does suppose we got interrupted…" she considered, smiling stupidly at him.

"I could agree" Peter replied, sliding his palm up her jaw and into her hair. She could only describe the kiss as really rather quite forceful if she was thinking about it and more than happy to go with it, she felt a thud below her.

"What was that?" she mumbled, hearing another thump, feeling it was exactly underneath their feet and the vibrations almost travelled up her legs.

"Him downstairs" Peter replied, seeing her look down towards the floor. "He's another one that shuts doors like it's going out of fashion. The radio will start soon" he concluded, going to kiss her cheek before wandering his way down her jaw.

"What does he do for a living?" she asked, not for being distracted this time as she was curious even though the only thing she could concentrate on was the feel of his lips on her skin; warm breath casting a delicate stream over neck and that spot that made her tingle.

"Do you know I have no idea….." Peter replied withdrawing so he could look at her. "He's lived there for about seven, eight months, p'haps a bit more and I have no idea". There was another thud under their feet.

"Isn't there something you could arrest him for?" she asked, dropping her head to one side as she felt his lips return to her neck; eyelids closing slowly as she indulged feeling the really rather gentle caress as hands skirted her waist and hips once more. "Can't you arrest him for disturbing the peace or just annoying us by causing too much noise?" she asked, knowing it was conjecture, but hearing the radio start as clear as day through the floorboards and just as he predicted.

Peter laughed, even though she noticed the timbre of his voice had dropped a few notes. She was done for. "No, not really. It usually lasts about half an hour and then he goes out. Usually brings a girl back".

"The same one?" she asked.

Peter shook his head at the sheer innocence of her question and really didn't want to answer her one bit. There were some things she didn't need to know about living in Poplar and this was one of them. "Different" he replied eventually. One or two he had recognised from time to time from Cable Street but she certainly would not be hearing that from him.

"Oh…." As much as she had an inkling he was trying to shield her, he perhaps didn't realise that her eyes had been opened wider than she had expected the moment she set foot in this place.

"Now you know why I want you out of here as quick as I can" Peter responded, looking deep into her eyes, imploring her to realise what he was trying to say.

"I like here" Chummy replied simply.

"You like the view from the windows and the fact you don't have any Nuns breathing down your neck" he responded, trying not to be sarcastic but it was the truth after all. Notwithstanding the fact that he was now unbuttoning her dress she didn't just want to leave the conversation there even though his observation had been more than accurate. Yes, as much as she loved the girls and the Sisters, the fact that she could now stand in the middle of her own living room – well sort of her own – in her husband's arms and not have to look over her shoulder was indeed, heaven.

"And that you're here" she concluded quietly, looking down and watching his hands, fascinated as the pale blue slip was gradually revealed.

"And it will be ten times better when we leave. I promise" he replied, eyes flashing quickly up, only for the noise underneath their feet increase a few decibels. His shoulders dropped; palms back resting on her waist.

"Only one thing for it then…." Peter mused, taking her by the wrist and spinning her around, pulling her across the floor towards the other room. She was sure he was deliberately being heavy footed and the fact that she almost tripped up… well him downstairs must have heard her foot thump on the floor as she tried to regain her balance before she plummeted to the floor. Still, though she allowed herself to be dragged – there was no other word for it – laughing into the bedroom.

The pair tumbled back onto the bed, half hearing it creak underneath the combined weight, devouring each other's skin; even though the sound of the Radetzky March from the flat below was clearly rather quite off putting at that volume or indeed at all. Dress wholly unbuttoned and after a rather unceremonious fight with his shirt again, she felt him move her leg to one side, pulling it over his hip to dive underneath her slip. Chummy was quite taken aback by his forcefulness until she could almost feel the frustration leach from him and for a moment she really wondered what he was up to as he was becoming rather, well, _rough_.

"Peter?" she asked timidly.

It took a moment for his brain to catch up that she had said something and he sighed and knelt up, except his left hand didn't move from the warmth of her thigh. "My watch is caught" he replied mournfully. She frowned for a second and sat up herself, legs either side of him seeing his hand and wrist wrapped up in her twisted slip. Ever so gently unravelling him she found his watch buckle caught on the lace and undid it, passing him the timepiece which he placed carefully on the bedside table.

"Second time lucky?" she suggested, lying back with her arms up to him, not being entirely amused by the interruptions either and it had rather ruined the moment. Once again.

He smiled and let out a short sigh again, crawling back over her and settling between her knees, resting for a moment as she gave him the lightest of kisses. Peter sighed deeply with contentment as he leaned on top of all her rather soft and deeply fascinating curves that all of their own accord seemed to take away his concentration every time he looked. He just stayed there for a moment, kissing her just once too as she smiled up at him, feeling her hands slide slowly his back, resting just on his hips and giving them a tiny squeeze.

"Oh?" Peter began, one eyebrow raised as he stared down into her eyes, drinking in a look he never thought he would see. "Is that a hint?"

He didn't allow her to answer before he kissed her again, again just the once but he knew how embarrassed it got her to be anything but largely silent during these moments so the fact that he felt her squeeze his hips again was the answer he needed. He'd just try to pick up her allusions until they perhaps got to know each other better; learnt more and she finally realised that if she wanted to initiate matters of this nature, well she was more than welcome.

Clasping her hands in his, fingers twisted together with her arms pinned to the bed, he decided that all the other shenanigans aside of fear or embarrassment – as they had both felt it those first few times – he went to lift his weight from her again. Kneeling up over her, he ducked down tracing kisses up and around the lace edge of her slip. That perfume assaulted his senses again; never understanding just how soft her skin could feel when all of her form was revealed to eyes that would never tire. To her, she almost had to think about breathing, taking slow, deep inspirations; eyes firmly closed as those kisses returned to her neck.

"Peter?" she asked quietly, feeling strangely bereft and getting a muffled 'hmmm?' in return. "Lie down beside me".

He did as she wished, lying on his side and she turned to mirror his position; his little finger just catching underneath the strap of her slip, hooking it and pulling an inch or two off her shoulder.

 _Thump. Thump. Thump._

Now that felt as though it was right underneath the bed and as she released her arm from her dress, she saw that look on his face again. "I think he must have heard the bed creak. That was the broom handle" Peter offered.

"Really?!" Chummy whispered; suddenly feeling paranoid, pushing him away and sitting up sharply as she pulled her dress back over herself to cover up.

"Camilla…." he started, sitting up too after being rather unceremoniously shoved off her but seeing her fear in clear focus. He didn't really want to discuss this but if she was going to be living here for a couple of weeks, she should perhaps know.

"No, Peter" she replied shaking her head and petrified of looking him in the eye. "If he's heard us when we've been.…." She would never live the embarrassment down. Not that she had ever met the aforesaid person downstairs, but that was not her point.

"Camilla" he repeated calmly, a palm moving carefully down her back. " _We're_ the ones that need the broom handles". She didn't follow and he must have read it on her face and knew he owed her a more explicit explanation. "When I said he brings girls…women…back; it's not for tea and cake or polite conversation". She flushed red. "Compared to what I get from him and his lady friends on a Friday night, these bedsprings have nothing to do with it!" He saw her pull her dress tighter across herself. "If you feel uncomfortable, he'll be going out soon".

"I'm sorry" she replied, forehead creasing. "It's just the thought of …and then we might bump into him one day…."

"I know and its fine" Peter replied, running a fingertip over her arm. "I've never had to think about it before. Just put up with his row with my head under the pillow".

"Really?" she asked, head snapping around to face him.

"Well, there's only been me in this bed for…." He quickly tried to calculate. "Well since I moved in" he carried on with a discrete shrug of the shoulders. That was almost four years ago.

"Do you mean to say you've not even…." she asked. She knew perfectly well that she had no idea what she may or may not have been missing all these years but he did.

"Not for four years. Longer actually when I think about it" Peter responded with a frown as his memory failed him, but it was definitely longer than he had been living here. He looked up to her for reassurance; not sure what he should be saying as it was the unvarnished truth. "Do you know I had almost forgotten what it's like to share something like that with someone. You just get used to it; being in this flat on your own. It ends up being…well…just the way it is".

"One wouldn't know" Chummy responded. She didn't know after all; never came close to it in fact but she would agree with his final statement wholeheartedly. _That was just the way it was._

Peter sat up, straightening his spine properly from the hunched position he had managed to adopt as they talked. "I'm sorry" he whispered.

"Nothing for you to feel sorry about" she replied, really rather quite curtly but why on earth should he be apologising to her for something that was so entirely out of _her_ control; let alone a man she didn't know two years ago? "You can't turn back time and change what's done".

"No" he replied with a soft laugh, shaking his head as he placed his hand on top of hers. "I certainly can't do that!"

"No wonder it's like living with a rabbit though" Chummy commented, really before her brain could tell her mouth off for such a remark as the thought meandered through her mind that - if he was telling the truth although he had no reason not to be – she had been the first one in more than a while. He must have been lonely too, she thought, missing a gentle touch, a hug or indeed, quite frankly, _the other_. She heard him laugh at her comment.

Peter leant over and whispered in her ear. "I don't seem to hear any complaints from your side of the fence…."

"There are none" she murmured back, just dropping a very quiet and very brief kiss to his lips, the simple affection making him smile again. It was as simple as that when it came down to it.

Peter shuffled down slightly to lie down again when the bed creaked and sure enough and by the time he had settled….. _Thump._

"He must have been waiting for that one" Peter remarked, running his palm over the base of her spine from where she was still seated above him; her dress still bunched in her hand. "Come and lie down and I promise no funny business until we are well and truly shot of him".

Chummy sighed. How to ruin what was a night that seemed to be full of promises. She lay down though, on her back, next to him letting go of her dress so it pooled, bedraggled and creased. Propping himself up on his elbow, Peter drew the pad of his finger across her chest, circling a figure of eight on her skin. They were just quiet for a few moments as her eyes drifted closed indulging in his touch. She'd gone her whole life not thinking of any man; not thinking she could experience anything like this and her hand reached out to touch him, drifting down his arm and back. Affection. That was what he had missed.

"We've been interrupted again" she sighed, feeling guilty until she thought. Why should she worry about her nosy and noisy neighbour though? Wasn't it time she followed through with her resolve not to worry about what other people think?

"If you're not comfortable then neither am I" Peter replied, fingertip still tracing around, drifting to the swell of her skin still encased in her slip and she just wished that he would dip and inch or two lower. "Besides, it's Friday night, neither of us are working until late tomorrow. Let's just …lie here" he concluded with a contented sigh not wanting to rush.

"But…" she began, the words refusing to come out. She had made herself a promise when she was waiting upstairs, all dressed in her wedding finery having five minutes of peace before they left for the church, that she wasn't going to second guess herself any more but here she was again; ruining everything _yet again_ just because she might offend someone by her simple presence.

"But nothing…" he replied, the radio suddenly falling quiet and yet again as he listened out there was another thud. "There he goes!"

"Really?" she asked with a laugh, quite stunned that he could work out which door was slamming at a time. Poor love must be so used to it!

"Firmly" Peter responded, dropping a kiss to her shoulder. "Gone but perhaps not forgotten".

"For now" she observed exhaling sharply as she could feel his lips replace the soft touch of his fingertip, having to trust him that that was the front door. Certainly with the music off, she thought to herself, one does propose that one could come to that conclusion…..

He had raised his head and could see her frowning. "Stop thinking" Peter whispered. "Trying my best here!"

"Sorry" she giggled, wriggling as she settled into the covers. "I'm all yours…."

Peter wanted to reply with the words 'I know' but he decided to just let it be as her hands went to the buckle of his belt. For a moment his brain shot far too many paces forward but right now were more important things to hand even though eagerness might start to be his undoing on of these days...


	3. Chapter 3

Chummy smiled up at him, breathing steadily wondering what on earth she had done to deserve this; not wanting to think those evil thoughts that plagued her that he might just end it tomorrow. Thinking had to be placed firmly off the agenda even though she was still slightly conscious of what their neighbour may or may not have heard.

But he was kissing her now and as his lips swept over hers, all rational thought decided to take its leave as she pulled him by the front of his vest closer as he settled next to her.

Peter heard his name breathed in his ear as he explored his way around her collarbone and tried to suppress his smile. The fact that she was, in her own quiet way, responsive to him did tell him he wasn't getting it wrong. He knew he was slightly more secure in himself about life in general than she was but still to hear that sigh in her voice pushed away those nagging thoughts..…

Chummy shifted slightly to slide her palm into his hair; pulling him closer; except he countered and she found herself over him instead a shocked squeal emanating from her, even though she clamped her hand over her mouth when she realised what she had done. Still too conscious of being overheard it would seem as she tried to stop the laughter that followed. Cautious too where she put her knee for fear of the bed creaking and another interruption downstairs and, she might add, a repeat of the 'Night of The Unfortunate Incident' when she hadn't been looking where she was going and Peter came off worse.

She sat carefully on his legs, pinning him down. Not that he minded. 'Less effort for me!" he once joked the comment nipping into his mind as she spread her palms over his stomach and chest, lost as he breathed deeply smiling up at her. His hands, resting on her knees now, pulled her up closer.

"Promise he's gone?" Chummy asked quietly.

"I assure you Camilla". He didn't want to say anything further about the resident downstairs coming back quite yet or the almighty row she was yet to experience.

She smiled and leant down to kiss him, feeling those hands that had been on her knees take a tight grip on her hips, pulling the remainder of her slip with them. Just eternally happy to kiss her - at least for the minute – she made herself even more comfortable in her lofty position and settled closer to him; wiggling slightly and she felt the puff of air as he unintentionally broke the kiss at the sensation of what she was doing.

"Sorry" Chummy uttered quietly, silently gleeful but not letting him see it.

"No you're not" Peter responded, clamping his hands to hands to her hips and forcing her to move as she rocked her hips gently again.

"Oh if you wish! One may have to agree!" she replied pulling at his vest so she could get it over his head as he sat up and she had it half way down his arms before she realised she was foiled when he lay back down again. Peter was clearly not for playing though and his hands stayed clamped to her so she was stuck. "Do you know one day one would envisage having to pop you swiftly into straightjacket but really not quite this early!"

Peter just shook his head and laughed. "Plenty of time for you to send me into the asylum yet Camilla. Would you like me to move my hands?"

"If you would be so kind?" she asked, pulling his vest sharply as it dug into his biceps on its way off as he released his grip on her.

Chummy looked down smiling again and leant down again to kiss him again leaning forward feeling his palms wide crawling up her sides; her dress going first and then her slip bunched in his hands as he pulled it over head and thrown somewhere behind him. All perfect handfuls of her. How many times he had wondered why she couldn't see how amazing, how beautiful, how…..words wouldn't come all of a sudden.

"Peter?" he heard quietly whispered in his ear and he opened his eyes, only just feeling the brief touch of her breath on his jaw.

"What?" he replied, blinking quickly.

"You're distracted…." Chummy observed, sitting up again slightly so she could see his face. She could tell he had been miles away for longer than she could be comfortable with even though she was sure he would deny it.

"I'm not" he replied gently moving his palms down over her hips again, settling closer into the mattress. "And if I am its only good thoughts!" he smiled, pulling her back down to kiss her again, hands trying to find the hooks that ran down the back of her corselette. Now that was one garment Peter would gladly see the back of. Why these things had to be so damn complicated….. Sitting up his arms went around her back.

"Wait" she whispered. She knew she could get herself out of the thing far quicker than he ever could as he let go and watched. Peter had noticed she had become slightly less concerned in covering herself up but there was still a long way to go as the cold air hit her skin and she shivered, holding the garment close to her for a minute. "I know" she said dolefully, seeing his eyes darken for a moment at the well, _spillage_ , she was creating with the corselette clasped so tight against her breasts. She clearly had no idea she was doing it. "I don't need to be shy".

"No" he replied. "You don't".

Now sitting up, her straddling across his knee, she felt kisses trail down her collarbone, arms wrapped around his back and his around hers, feeling the goosebumps on her skin appear as the satin was pulled away from her.

She'd forgotten about Him Downstairs for a moment; thinking all she needed to do was love the person she was now pinning to the mattress, only able to concentrate on her husband and the fact that she felt so entirely light of spirit in these moments when it was just the two of them alone. The clock never mattered and neither noticed the minutes ticking by as slowly and surely, by fair means or foul - mostly foul as there was something suddenly so distinctly playful about tonight - she was underneath him again.

As he entered her, pleasure blossomed through, self-consciousness once again thrown into the breeze as she looked sideways for a moment, catching sight of them in the mirror propped up on the sideboard. How primeval it all looked; his body buried within hers as a pinkness formed on her cheeks. Unconsciously she moved her legs changing the angle of her hips and she _felt_ the deep rumble rise from his middle in response as his lips momentarily left her neck, forehead touching her collarbone.

It only made her laugh; not callously but out of sheer pleasure, but trouble was he was onto her game and turned to look at her through the mirror, cheek to cheek, not moving an inch.

"Don't let anyone tell you that you are not perfect", he said. "Not even that mirror". She watched for a moment as he kissed her cheek, ducking down again until she could only see the top of his head in the mirror as she tried to concentrate. Chummy watched herself like a stranger, pressing her lips together as his hips moved again, slowly, surely and determinedly and her eyelids fluttered shut; that blasted mirror and its image of her temporarily forgotten.

She was always careful never to blaspheme in her daily life but there were those moments when odd word of the religious persuasion was the only thing that came into her head and this was one of those. Peter almost, deliberately, withdrew from her ignoring the fact that he could feel her body twitching around him and it would be so very easy just to sink back close to her.

"Don't do that…" she breathed.

"Do what?" he replied, even though it sounded as though he had grown horns and a tail in the space of two words. Two words, he would admit, he struggled to articulate.

"Stop…"

"You want me to stop?" he asked, slightly taking his weight off her chest. "If you really, really want me to…"

Her eyes flashed open at him, his face almost too close to her that he was nearly a blur. She was about the say the word 'no', just about forcing out the 'n..' as it dissolved into a breath of air as he pushed himself inside her again. Her hand let go of his shoulder, landing flat with a thump onto the mattress. His breath was back on her neck as quite frankly he couldn't concentrate on anything else other than the winding up of pleasure that was centred on their hips and as they moved, it felt as though his chest was about to explode as air suddenly seemed in rather short supply. The dire, desperate need was counterbalanced by the desire to make this last as long as was humanly possible. There were no words to describe her as her body tightened, hearing her breathing pick up and whatever he must have done in that second, feel her back arch underneath him trying to push herself closer to him as she gave in.

He clutched her, moaning in her ear as the breaking of her resolve sent him over the edge with her. For a moment there was silence as Peter felt her relax; har arms loosely over his shoulders. They hugged, stayed there, just holding tight until it felt as though either could sit up, and then, for a moment, she just smiled against his hair. Breathing through shaky arm muscles Peter rested up on his elbows either side of her and looked at her, before leaning down to plant a kiss on her cheek. His face was soft, eyes catching the pink patches on her chest and neck; the results of his creation.

She smiled back up at him, throat dry of any comprehensible words as she heard her own pulse thunder in her hears. "I do love you" he said, feeling the tips of her fingers run quietly over his temple.

Chummy was shivering all of sudden; goosebumps appearing on her arms again. "Under the covers?" she asked quietly.

He nodded and withdrew from her, throwing the eiderdown to one side so they could get in, tight together and warm again. For a few minutes as her heart rate returned to normal; she just felt the need to _wander_ her fingers across his chest.

"Oh so I see,…" he commented "Round two is required?" Signs. Pick up the signs.

Chummy scrunched her nose up; Peter however not giving her much time to dally about as she felt her leg pulled over his hip and his hand dip between them, thinking he must have read her right.

"Do you mind?" she replied haughtily, taking hold of his wrist underneath the covers and pulling him away from her.

"Oh" Peter responded. Was that a sign? Did his misread her? He withdrew his hand; embarrassed.

"I don't want any of that" she continued, pulling her arms tighter across his middle. "I want,…"

"Go on?" he replied tentatively as her words hung in the air.

"My fish and chips... you were going until you distracted me…" she replied with an innocent flutter of her eyelashes as he felt a shove to his shoulder.

"Camilla" Peter stated in response, flat and unaffected, wondering if she was messing about or being serious. He wasn't sure which but the thought of even raising his head from the pillow at the moment was too much for a man to bear.

"Peter" she replied, in the same tone. Damn it,…she was being serious. So serious, that she pulled the eiderdown straight off him and the cool air of the room hit every aspect of his bare skin, giving him the shivers now.

"Is this what it's going to be like for the next 50 years?" he asked, his back to her as he swung his legs out of bed, reaching down onto the floor for his vest and shirt wanting to cover up quickly or dive straight back under the eiderdown, but she wouldn't be having the latter. Not on his life!

"Only if you're lucky!" He didn't see her smile and slide straight under the covers again as he pulled his vest over his head.

"I am lucky" he whispered quietly as he stood up. "I know that already".

FIN


End file.
